[ gods, sasuke kneels like he was born to do it. tseng feels his mouth go dry, then flood wet again at the sight of him, his back straight and gaze unflinching as he tilts his chin up to look at tseng. the picture of perfect submission, right here on tseng's kitchen floor.
he's already hard, so there's no need to instruct sasuke to get him hard. instead, tseng reaches out to push his thumb into sasuke's mouth, against the ridge of his lower teeth, parting his lips and allowing a glimpse of his tongue inside his mouth. ]
Suck my cock. [ he presses his thumb down against sasuke's tongue, holding it in place, possessive and messy. ] If you're good enough I'll fuck your throat, but do not make me come.
[ a beat, where tseng holds sasuke's gaze to ensure that he's understood, and then he lets go of sasuke's mouth, draping one arm casually on the countertop and bracing his other elbow on the back of the chair. his posture is casual, only vaguely interested, for all that his cock is achingly hard between his thighs. ]
[That thumb parts lips and teeth, showing the flicker of a red tongue in the interior of his mouth. There's no resistance as that touch slips inside; he yields when it presses down and causes his jaw to fall a little wider, though he remains obediently still until Tseng is satisfied.
The firmness of that command cuts straight through him, hot and vital, delivering him easily into the mindset that this kind of submission requires. It's simple — it is like what he'd first felt in Tseng's presence when they found each other at the Naked Yolk months ago, a telling physical chemistry between them impossible to deny when the evidence is made so stark.
If you're good. So, he'll try to be good — a gleam in the mismatched color of eyes as his right hand works open the front of the man's slacks, button and zipper unfastened, nosing deeper into the spread crux of long legs. He just... buries his face here for a moment, reveling in the heat and hardness of Tseng's cock against his cheek through a pair of dark boxer-briefs. He forms his right palm against the base as his mouth peels fabric back, uncovering the velvet skin of the glans — lips passing across it gently in a study of touch. Then he bathes the head of the man's cock in gentle strokes of a tongue, but Tseng's order was direct, and so he doesn't hesitate toe slip the circle of his mouth down with practiced skill — swallowing halfway only to hollow cheeks in a greedy suck at full flesh.]
[ it's so interesting to watch sasuke move. there's obvious enthusiasm in each of his gestures, but where enthusiasm so often makes others clumsy, sasuke seems to have a keen awareness of his own body, where his limbs are at any given moment. it's a beautiful contrast, in a context like this, and it makes tseng's breath hitch as he observes from above.
that breath immediately leaves in an unsteady exhale as sasuke peels away the fabric of his slacks and boxers to reveal the erect length of his cock. the moment he spends laving his tongue around the head is excruciating and perfect, and then sasuke takes tseng into his mouth, his tongue wet and cheeks soft as he ducks down and then pulls back up. ]
Just like that, [ tseng murmurs. he drops a hand to sasuke's face, cupping his jaw as his head bobs again, cheeks hollowing when he withdraws. the suction is sweet and earns a low hiss from tseng, who presses his thumb against sasuke's cheek like he wants to feel his cock through the skin. ] Fuck, you're good at this.
[ eventually, tseng will take over. eventually, the hand at sasuke's cheek will curve around the back of his neck to hold him in place while tseng fucks his mouth and throat. but not yet—for now, he wants to watch sasuke do his very best, to give him the opportunity to demonstrate that he deserves to be treated the way tseng wants to treat him. ]
[It's so easy to do this. It feels effortless with Tseng, where with almost everyone else he could not get down on his knees and offer the complete sovereignty of his mouth, could not easily surrender to the scrutiny of that gaze above him. But beneath Tseng he finds that he enjoys it — less of a show put on than a simple display of skill, nothing overdone, an efficiency to the drag of his tongue over Tseng's cock that suggests sincere pleasure in the act. It's also not sloppy; wherever he finds too much wetness from gathered saliva or the drool of precome, he laps it up dutifully until Tseng's cock is slick and shining and clean.
And then back down, over the head, fitting his mouth each time a little lower, opening the channel of his throat to take a little more. He breathes out hard through his nose on those moments where Tseng's cock fits deep enough that it threatens to seal the air at the back of his throat. It's dizzy and heady, but it's also not enough without the man's hand on his head, without that control forcing his mouth into regular rhythm of thrusts, so he withdraws to wet his lips and try again.
He can feel his own arousal pooling between his legs by now so distracting that his thickened length is a steady throb. He wants to rub it against — something, but discipline keeps him still. Obedient.]
[ sasuke's tongue laves wet and hot around the head of tseng's cock before he ducks back down to swallow him again, and tseng has to breathe deeply through his nose to steady himself against the curse he wants to bite out. sasuke is so good at this, so eager, but with an efficient, methodical tidiness that suggests a real enjoyment of the act. no drama, no flair. just the ruthless pleasure of his mouth and throat. ]
Such a gorgeous little whore, [ tseng murmurs, forcing his voice to stay steady as his hand pets through sasuke's hair. despite the degrading words, his tone is affectionate and approving. ] You suck cock like your mouth was made for it.
[ he pushes his hand back through sasuke's hair, holding it away from his face so tseng can watch the thick shaft of his cock disappear into the stretched circle of sasuke's lips, can watch his cheeks hollow as he sucks and his throat work as he swallows. the sight is a punch of arousal right to the gut, one that makes his cock throb hard in sasuke's mouth. ]
It's not enough for you, is it? [ he can read the tension in the way sasuke holds himself, the minute shifts of his thighs and hips. even though he can't see down between sasuke's legs he can imagine how hard sasuke must be, can practically envision his cock stiff and pressing against the fabric of his pants, how the arousal must be driving him wild but he's too obedient to touch himself. ] You want to be used. You just want that perfect throat to be a hole for me to fuck, don't you, beautiful?
[ tseng knows it's true, because they've done this before. he knows sasuke likes it when he slips his hand around to the back of sasuke's head and fists it in his hair, tugging just enough, only pulling if sasuke tries to lean forward; he knows how much it turns sasuke on when tseng braces himself on the chair so he can fuck sasuke's mouth. again, it's with perfect precision, pushing his cock just far enough to cut off sasuke's air and holding it there just long enough for him to feel it before pulling back again.
this time, though, tseng offers something more, and this time it's a little bit of a gamble: he shifts one shoe between sasuke's thighs and presses it gently against the hard, urgent shape of his cock, giving sasuke something to rut against, a little relief while tseng uses his throat for his own pleasure. ]
[He can't describe what it is about the language that so effectively undoes him. The tone of voice Tseng uses is almost unfair, almost weaponized, warmly affectionate even at the humiliation of being called a whore, being reduced to the simple purpose of this act — on his knees to take a man's cock into his throat. Yet Sasuke is only more aroused at the idea of that debasement. He has always seen his body as a weapon, and so now it seems reasonable that this is what he would be used in service to, even if the fantasy expands slightly on the hinge of Tseng's words, less about just anyone and more for this man alone in this moment.
Tseng will still feel it. That slight vibration of voice around his cock, a muffled noise for the disparaging words that signals Sasuke's own pleasure to hear it. And there's something more, an aching burn for the endearment placed on the end — because being beautiful is not a kind of praise he has ever chased. It feels so personal, so sweet in contrast to the filthy derision of the rest.
Then the man's hand finds the back of his head and he surrenders to it, eases slightly to allow his mouth to be fucked, giving control with a shiver of loosened muscles. He can feel how Tseng watches him and it's enough to white out his mind. There's no room to think when he's forced down to that precise point of airlessness, where his mouth forms a tight seal until he can't breathe with the thick tip shoved into the back of his throat, pinching wetness at the corners of his eyes.
In this state, he's too eager to meet the foot between his legs. There's no resistance, no squirming away from embarrassment. He's too far gone for that. The degradation makes it all more acute, grinding his covered erection against Tseng's heel with a whimper that will be felt around the man's cock.]
[ there's relief that mixes with the arousal as sasuke's hips grind up to meet the pressure of tseng's shoe between his thighs—the gamble paid off, then. tseng tilts his head back on a quiet moan and presses his foot a little more firmly against sasuke's cock, his hips moving with increasing urgency as he fucks into sasuke's throat, finding that exact point again and again to steal sasuke's breath away.
despite the way sasuke's muscles have gone loose and his gaze has gone hazy with pleasure, there's still an urgency to the way sasuke moves against him, to the noises he makes that are muffled by the insistent press of tseng's cock into his mouth. it drives tseng wild—it drove him wild the first time they did this, too, but even more so now that he knows sasuke better. it makes him want nothing more than to ruin this gorgeous boy kneeling before him, tears caught in his lashes, his face flushed and saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth. ]
Just like that, [ tseng murmurs his approval as sasuke's hips move. ] You love this, don't you, my precious little slut? Does it make you want to come?
[ what are the chances, tseng wonders idly, that sasuke remembers the instruction not to make tseng come? he'd intended to pull out and jerk himself to finish on sasuke's face, but he's already getting close, and he'd like sasuke to be the one to come first before tseng gets himself off. ]
[Having his pleasure put at the center of this act, reciprocal in his desire to use his mouth on Tseng — it's almost too much. The pressure of the sole of Tseng's foot against his cock through the thick fabric of pants only enhances that unbearable sensation, friction somewhere on the cusp of enough without taking him there, without delivering the relief of an orgasm that his body craves. Part of that is the grasp of control this encounter has on him; he exists in Tseng's hand, and he'll do whatever Tseng tells him to to do in this moment. Trusting someone enough to yield to that kind of exchange is learned, but still vulnerable. Still new.
At the question, he nods his head, humming around the intrusion of Tseng's cock in his throat so his voice comes out a muffled overeager affirmation. His right hand sinks to the base and he squeezes his fingers into a tight circle there, because he does remember that he can't make the man come first. Then he slips his mouth off over the head, Tseng's cock shiny and wet, a string of saliva like a fine filament between his lips and the tip.]
Can I? [His voice is rough and a little husky from use.] Am I allowed to?
[Like he needs permission to come, he grinds his hips up for a more direct drag of Tseng's foot between his legs — panting now, close to the edge with a desire to be told to go over it.]
[ fuck, sasuke is going to be the death of him. tseng's breath catches at the sight, sasuke's mouth swollen with use, his gaze dark and needy as he looks to tseng for permission to indulge his own desire for pleasure. he really is beautiful like this, tseng thinks a little wildly, his thumb stroking the line of sasuke's cheekbone. this is far from the first time that tseng has been in control, but shiva, being with sasuke is the first time tseng has felt that control to be so utterly precious.
one of tseng's hands moves to the base of his own cock, covering sasuke's hand where it's wrapped around the base. his other hand tightens in sasuke's hair, holding his head in place as his foot presses a little more firmly high between the crux of sasuke's thighs. ]
Since you asked so nicely, [ tseng says, ] you may come.
[ and while sasuke chases his orgasm, tseng does the same. he uses sasuke's hand, the one curled around his cock, and jerks himself off with it, the circle of his fingers just tight enough to drive tseng right to the brink of climax. a slow breath, hold, two, three, waiting for sasuke to shudder over the edge—but as soon as he does, tseng looses his iron grip on his own control as well, and uses sasuke's fingers to stroke himself to orgasm, his cock twitching and then spilling in hot, sticky spurts all over sasuke's face. ]
[Those two points of contact carry the weight of anchors — one heavy and warm over his own at the root of the man's swollen cock, the other snarled into his hair with enough force to rein him in place so he cannot move at all. The lack of control is an aphrodisiac all its own, impressed even harder by the rigid line of Tseng's foot against his cock providing that drag of friction. And those words, You may come, like the relief of cool rain after hot drought — his entire body flinches as he comes, soaking his own underwear until the thin fabric is pasted in a sticky smear to his crotch. Even this is delicious, and he squirms to feel that wet mess before reason or sanity has quite crept back in.
Then there is Tseng above him, looking down at him with that black gaze of lust, keeping him pulled in tight and immobile so that hot splatter covers his cheeks and mouth in a glaze. Sasuke can't help the sound that leaves him, mouth falling open as if to catch any that might land there so at least he can taste it. His eyes are glassy, face flushed with the fruition of desire.]
Tseng...
[It's half a whine, eyelashes flickering and then falling shut in a natural reflex not to let any get in his eyes. Yet this is also a signifier of trust, too, in a way that perhaps the man won't know. His sight is an immensely precious thing.
And so he stays like that, on his knees, until Tseng decides to release him.]
[ if he wasn't so overwhelmed by the sight of sasuke shuddering into orgasm as he grinds up against the sole of tseng's shoe, tseng might have taken better care to aim and get a little more of his cum in sasuke's mouth for him to taste—but he's half out of his mind with pleasure and desire and so only a few drops land between his open lips. still, the sight of him with his eyes closed and mouth open, his face covered in tseng's spend, chest heaving with panted breaths and hips squirming against the pressure between his thighs...
it's an image that sears itself indelibly into tseng's mind, the kind of sight he'll never forget. ]
Sasuke. [ his voice sounds rough, and tseng's breath comes quickly too, struggling to modulate it as his nerves are jolted by little aftershocks of orgasm. he curls sasuke's fingers around his length and gives it one last stroke, catching the last remnants of his cum on sasuke's fingertips, then lifts sasuke's hand to put those fingers in his mouth instead. ] Lick those clean and take deep breaths for me.
[ while sasuke does that, tseng tucks himself back into his pants and leans over to grab a roll of soft paper towels from their place on the kitchen counter. by the time he returns, sasuke seems to be more or less done with his fingers, and so tseng guides them from his mouth so he can use the paper towel to dab at the splatters of cum on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. it's not a full cleanup, they'll need the bathroom for that, but it's at least enough to make sure none of it will drip into sasuke's eyes. ]
Look at me. [ tseng cups sasuke's face in one hand, gentle and coaxing. ] How do you feel?
[The way Tseng coaxes him down from the height of that acute, thoughtless pleasure is gentle, and Sasuke finds himself obeying those instructions without hesitation. His head is still gauzy and gray, a little out of it, red tongue slipping past lips to lap away the bitter-salt vestige of cum from callused fingertips. He's obedient, too, in taking breaths once he's finished until the frantic stutter of his pulse slows to a calmer, mediated pace.
With his face a mess, he is careful to keep his eyes closed as Tseng cleans him up. And then they open again at the command, gaze turning up, a twitch of a smile at his mouth.]
Ah. [His voice is hoarse; he has to clear his throat.] Good.
[Fine to settle on his knees more comfortably, Sasuke's head tilts, as if to push his cheek into the man's hand like a cat.]
To be clear, this isn't why I came over. I suppose that it's... difficult to resist being around you sometimes.
[Especially when Tseng — so buttoned-up and professional, not a fold of clothing or strand of hair out of place — starts dirty talking him over breakfast.]
[ very much like a cat, a particularly satisfied one at that. tseng smiles and strokes his thumb across sasuke's cheekbone, finding himself endeared by even such a small gesture. ]
I didn't think it was, but I have to admit I'm feeling very smug about it.
[ and why wouldn't he be? it's unbelievably satisfying to have this kind of effect on sasuke, to be able to drive him this wild. tseng doesn't take it for granted, that he's being allowed to see sasuke vulnerable, that he's sometimes given the reins of sasuke's pleasure and trusted to make it worthwhile.
he lets sasuke stay on his knees for a moment, but eventually tseng does lean down to rest a hand on sasuke's bicep, carefully encouraging him to stand. slowly, of course, out of consideration for the fact that his knees are likely sore—tseng's kitchen floors certainly weren't laid with kneeling comfort in mind. ]
[There's a quiet little snort at that first comment, but he lets Tseng have that well-deserved smugness, drawn up to his feet by the gentle hand on his arm. Any soreness to his knees is negligible; his body has endured far worse discomforts over the years of his life.
He comes to stand close to Tseng, between the man's open legs.]
That depends. [A tilt of his head.] Are you washing my face here in the kitchen, or are you going to take me to the shower?
I was hoping for the shower, but if your preference is the kitchen sink...
[ tseng casts a little glance backwards, behind them to where the sink is set into the marble countertops. it is a nice sink, but not entirely what tseng thinks of when he thinks about aftercare.
when his gaze returns to sasuke, tseng's expression softens a little in its teasing. it's not a conscious change, just... something his face does when he looks at sasuke, evidently.
he also contemplates saying aloud that the last time they showered together they also got rather distracted, but chooses not to, since he's sure that sasuke remembers regardless. ]
[Is it strange to think the man who just came all over your face is being very cute right now?
In any case, Sasuke hums low in his throat and leans slightly away, conscious that he's still not fully clean and he doesn't know if Tseng would want him too close for that reason.]
I don't have anywhere to be. Let's take a shower. [His right hand drops, seeking Tseng's wrist — a little bossy in the way he tugs on the man's arm as he steps back, towing him along.] I should take advantage of your bathroom's privacy while I can.
[ ah ah. tseng's hands find sasuke's waist, holding him in place and refusing to let him lean away. far be it from tseng to think that his own spend on sasuke's face is somehow dirty or unclean—perhaps sasuke has forgotten that one of tseng's favorite activities is eating sasuke's ass? ]
Gladly. [ and not just as a figure of speech. tseng likes the idea of showering together, the intimacy and sensuality of the experience. ] You know you can use my bathroom whenever you want, don't you?
[ like, what is the point of having a fuckoff big luxe bathroom if you aren't going to let your situationship use it as he desires? tseng lets himself be pulled up by sasuke's hand on his wrist, but the first thing he does when he stands is to take sasuke's face in both hands and kiss him right on the mouth—a brief kiss, yes, but hopefully one that leaves no uncertainty about the fact that tseng doesn't mind sasuke close no matter how messy he is. ]
I can't just walk in whenever I want... I would ask first.
[Hello, that's so thoughtless? What if Tseng is busy or has other company over? Still, he's touched by the consideration and the lack of shame shown in that kiss — clearly signifying he doesn't mind the mess. Sasuke returns it, letting himself enjoy the closeness and intimacy of the gesture before they withdraw and begin making their way to the shower.]
Ah, thanks. My hair is getting a little long — though not as long as yours. [Tseng easily wins that comparison.] Sometimes it can be annoying with one hand.
[He rarely complains about his handicap, if ever, but it is a testament now to the general comfort he feels in Tseng's presence, to be open.]
[ well, tseng doesn't care if sasuke walks in whenever... but he senses that the argument would be a losing battle on his side, so he just nods in acquiescence as he straightens up from his seat on the stool. he keeps sasuke close as they walk, one hand a warm presence at the small of his back. ]
Maybe yours will get this long, if you don't cut it for five years. [ the last time tseng cut his hair was in october of [ ν ] – εγλ 0002, just after the incident at nibelheim. a signifier of his own dishonor, his own grief, although he hadn't explained it to anyone as such.
this mention of sasuke's missing arm is, tseng thinks, perhaps the first time that sasuke has acknowledged it outright. it's always been clear to tseng that he manages well enough, and sasuke has never struck tseng as the type to want to be treated differently because of it, so it does speak to sasuke's comfort with and trust in tseng that he speaks so openly about it now. what a warm feeling, small and blooming in his chest. ]
I can imagine. [ tseng has only spent short stretches of time without full use of his limbs, and those were frustrating enough. he leans over to press a brief kiss to sasuke's temple. ] Then let that be another point in favor of you making use of my bathroom. When you're tired of doing it yourself, you can come here and let me do it for you.
[Five years is a long time. For most of his life, he'd kept his hair short and maintained it himself — it was only after leaving prison at the end of the war, and beginning to travel across these dimensions, that he'd stopped caring for that maintenance. So now it has begun to grow out, partially sideswept to conceal the strange color and pattern of the Rinnegan.
The gesture is touching, and he manages a soft little laugh at the words, leading the way into the bathroom now that he knows the path.]
You're the one who must get tired of washing your own hair. [Two hands or not...] But, if you want, you can do it for me now.
[Once he's turned on the lights, pleasantly backlit at the counter mirror, Sasuke begins to shuffle his shirt overhead. He's not shy this time undressing with Tseng, but he is — aware of himself, maybe.]
[ tseng can't deny that; his own hair does take some work to wash. but— ] It's more enjoyable when it's yours.
[ his own hair, he only washes to get clean! sasuke's hair, he gets to wash for the experience of it, the intimacy and shared space. far more pleasing a venture than just trying to shampoo away the day.
as sasuke begins to undress, tseng leans over to turn on the spray, letting it heat up in the meantime. then he turns and spends a moment just watching, his gaze steady and warm as he observes sasuke's skin revealed, the narrow dip of his waist broadening to his ribs and then to his shoulders. lithe muscle, pale skin decorated by scars that speak to the life sasuke has led.
tseng steps forward to do the last part, tugging sasuke's shirt over his head, and then leans in to kiss his shoulder right atop one of those faded scars. that's all—no comment. there's no need for it. tseng sets sasuke's shirt on the countertop and begins to remove his own clothes next, his shirt first and then his slacks. ]
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he's already hard, so there's no need to instruct sasuke to get him hard. instead, tseng reaches out to push his thumb into sasuke's mouth, against the ridge of his lower teeth, parting his lips and allowing a glimpse of his tongue inside his mouth. ]
Suck my cock. [ he presses his thumb down against sasuke's tongue, holding it in place, possessive and messy. ] If you're good enough I'll fuck your throat, but do not make me come.
[ a beat, where tseng holds sasuke's gaze to ensure that he's understood, and then he lets go of sasuke's mouth, draping one arm casually on the countertop and bracing his other elbow on the back of the chair. his posture is casual, only vaguely interested, for all that his cock is achingly hard between his thighs. ]
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The firmness of that command cuts straight through him, hot and vital, delivering him easily into the mindset that this kind of submission requires. It's simple — it is like what he'd first felt in Tseng's presence when they found each other at the Naked Yolk months ago, a telling physical chemistry between them impossible to deny when the evidence is made so stark.
If you're good. So, he'll try to be good — a gleam in the mismatched color of eyes as his right hand works open the front of the man's slacks, button and zipper unfastened, nosing deeper into the spread crux of long legs. He just... buries his face here for a moment, reveling in the heat and hardness of Tseng's cock against his cheek through a pair of dark boxer-briefs. He forms his right palm against the base as his mouth peels fabric back, uncovering the velvet skin of the glans — lips passing across it gently in a study of touch. Then he bathes the head of the man's cock in gentle strokes of a tongue, but Tseng's order was direct, and so he doesn't hesitate toe slip the circle of his mouth down with practiced skill — swallowing halfway only to hollow cheeks in a greedy suck at full flesh.]
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that breath immediately leaves in an unsteady exhale as sasuke peels away the fabric of his slacks and boxers to reveal the erect length of his cock. the moment he spends laving his tongue around the head is excruciating and perfect, and then sasuke takes tseng into his mouth, his tongue wet and cheeks soft as he ducks down and then pulls back up. ]
Just like that, [ tseng murmurs. he drops a hand to sasuke's face, cupping his jaw as his head bobs again, cheeks hollowing when he withdraws. the suction is sweet and earns a low hiss from tseng, who presses his thumb against sasuke's cheek like he wants to feel his cock through the skin. ] Fuck, you're good at this.
[ eventually, tseng will take over. eventually, the hand at sasuke's cheek will curve around the back of his neck to hold him in place while tseng fucks his mouth and throat. but not yet—for now, he wants to watch sasuke do his very best, to give him the opportunity to demonstrate that he deserves to be treated the way tseng wants to treat him. ]
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And then back down, over the head, fitting his mouth each time a little lower, opening the channel of his throat to take a little more. He breathes out hard through his nose on those moments where Tseng's cock fits deep enough that it threatens to seal the air at the back of his throat. It's dizzy and heady, but it's also not enough without the man's hand on his head, without that control forcing his mouth into regular rhythm of thrusts, so he withdraws to wet his lips and try again.
He can feel his own arousal pooling between his legs by now so distracting that his thickened length is a steady throb. He wants to rub it against — something, but discipline keeps him still. Obedient.]
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Such a gorgeous little whore, [ tseng murmurs, forcing his voice to stay steady as his hand pets through sasuke's hair. despite the degrading words, his tone is affectionate and approving. ] You suck cock like your mouth was made for it.
[ he pushes his hand back through sasuke's hair, holding it away from his face so tseng can watch the thick shaft of his cock disappear into the stretched circle of sasuke's lips, can watch his cheeks hollow as he sucks and his throat work as he swallows. the sight is a punch of arousal right to the gut, one that makes his cock throb hard in sasuke's mouth. ]
It's not enough for you, is it? [ he can read the tension in the way sasuke holds himself, the minute shifts of his thighs and hips. even though he can't see down between sasuke's legs he can imagine how hard sasuke must be, can practically envision his cock stiff and pressing against the fabric of his pants, how the arousal must be driving him wild but he's too obedient to touch himself. ] You want to be used. You just want that perfect throat to be a hole for me to fuck, don't you, beautiful?
[ tseng knows it's true, because they've done this before. he knows sasuke likes it when he slips his hand around to the back of sasuke's head and fists it in his hair, tugging just enough, only pulling if sasuke tries to lean forward; he knows how much it turns sasuke on when tseng braces himself on the chair so he can fuck sasuke's mouth. again, it's with perfect precision, pushing his cock just far enough to cut off sasuke's air and holding it there just long enough for him to feel it before pulling back again.
this time, though, tseng offers something more, and this time it's a little bit of a gamble: he shifts one shoe between sasuke's thighs and presses it gently against the hard, urgent shape of his cock, giving sasuke something to rut against, a little relief while tseng uses his throat for his own pleasure. ]
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Tseng will still feel it. That slight vibration of voice around his cock, a muffled noise for the disparaging words that signals Sasuke's own pleasure to hear it. And there's something more, an aching burn for the endearment placed on the end — because being beautiful is not a kind of praise he has ever chased. It feels so personal, so sweet in contrast to the filthy derision of the rest.
Then the man's hand finds the back of his head and he surrenders to it, eases slightly to allow his mouth to be fucked, giving control with a shiver of loosened muscles. He can feel how Tseng watches him and it's enough to white out his mind. There's no room to think when he's forced down to that precise point of airlessness, where his mouth forms a tight seal until he can't breathe with the thick tip shoved into the back of his throat, pinching wetness at the corners of his eyes.
In this state, he's too eager to meet the foot between his legs. There's no resistance, no squirming away from embarrassment. He's too far gone for that. The degradation makes it all more acute, grinding his covered erection against Tseng's heel with a whimper that will be felt around the man's cock.]
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despite the way sasuke's muscles have gone loose and his gaze has gone hazy with pleasure, there's still an urgency to the way sasuke moves against him, to the noises he makes that are muffled by the insistent press of tseng's cock into his mouth. it drives tseng wild—it drove him wild the first time they did this, too, but even more so now that he knows sasuke better. it makes him want nothing more than to ruin this gorgeous boy kneeling before him, tears caught in his lashes, his face flushed and saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth. ]
Just like that, [ tseng murmurs his approval as sasuke's hips move. ] You love this, don't you, my precious little slut? Does it make you want to come?
[ what are the chances, tseng wonders idly, that sasuke remembers the instruction not to make tseng come? he'd intended to pull out and jerk himself to finish on sasuke's face, but he's already getting close, and he'd like sasuke to be the one to come first before tseng gets himself off. ]
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At the question, he nods his head, humming around the intrusion of Tseng's cock in his throat so his voice comes out a muffled overeager affirmation. His right hand sinks to the base and he squeezes his fingers into a tight circle there, because he does remember that he can't make the man come first. Then he slips his mouth off over the head, Tseng's cock shiny and wet, a string of saliva like a fine filament between his lips and the tip.]
Can I? [His voice is rough and a little husky from use.] Am I allowed to?
[Like he needs permission to come, he grinds his hips up for a more direct drag of Tseng's foot between his legs — panting now, close to the edge with a desire to be told to go over it.]
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one of tseng's hands moves to the base of his own cock, covering sasuke's hand where it's wrapped around the base. his other hand tightens in sasuke's hair, holding his head in place as his foot presses a little more firmly high between the crux of sasuke's thighs. ]
Since you asked so nicely, [ tseng says, ] you may come.
[ and while sasuke chases his orgasm, tseng does the same. he uses sasuke's hand, the one curled around his cock, and jerks himself off with it, the circle of his fingers just tight enough to drive tseng right to the brink of climax. a slow breath, hold, two, three, waiting for sasuke to shudder over the edge—but as soon as he does, tseng looses his iron grip on his own control as well, and uses sasuke's fingers to stroke himself to orgasm, his cock twitching and then spilling in hot, sticky spurts all over sasuke's face. ]
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Then there is Tseng above him, looking down at him with that black gaze of lust, keeping him pulled in tight and immobile so that hot splatter covers his cheeks and mouth in a glaze. Sasuke can't help the sound that leaves him, mouth falling open as if to catch any that might land there so at least he can taste it. His eyes are glassy, face flushed with the fruition of desire.]
Tseng...
[It's half a whine, eyelashes flickering and then falling shut in a natural reflex not to let any get in his eyes. Yet this is also a signifier of trust, too, in a way that perhaps the man won't know. His sight is an immensely precious thing.
And so he stays like that, on his knees, until Tseng decides to release him.]
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it's an image that sears itself indelibly into tseng's mind, the kind of sight he'll never forget. ]
Sasuke. [ his voice sounds rough, and tseng's breath comes quickly too, struggling to modulate it as his nerves are jolted by little aftershocks of orgasm. he curls sasuke's fingers around his length and gives it one last stroke, catching the last remnants of his cum on sasuke's fingertips, then lifts sasuke's hand to put those fingers in his mouth instead. ] Lick those clean and take deep breaths for me.
[ while sasuke does that, tseng tucks himself back into his pants and leans over to grab a roll of soft paper towels from their place on the kitchen counter. by the time he returns, sasuke seems to be more or less done with his fingers, and so tseng guides them from his mouth so he can use the paper towel to dab at the splatters of cum on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. it's not a full cleanup, they'll need the bathroom for that, but it's at least enough to make sure none of it will drip into sasuke's eyes. ]
Look at me. [ tseng cups sasuke's face in one hand, gentle and coaxing. ] How do you feel?
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With his face a mess, he is careful to keep his eyes closed as Tseng cleans him up. And then they open again at the command, gaze turning up, a twitch of a smile at his mouth.]
Ah. [His voice is hoarse; he has to clear his throat.] Good.
[Fine to settle on his knees more comfortably, Sasuke's head tilts, as if to push his cheek into the man's hand like a cat.]
To be clear, this isn't why I came over. I suppose that it's... difficult to resist being around you sometimes.
[Especially when Tseng — so buttoned-up and professional, not a fold of clothing or strand of hair out of place — starts dirty talking him over breakfast.]
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I didn't think it was, but I have to admit I'm feeling very smug about it.
[ and why wouldn't he be? it's unbelievably satisfying to have this kind of effect on sasuke, to be able to drive him this wild. tseng doesn't take it for granted, that he's being allowed to see sasuke vulnerable, that he's sometimes given the reins of sasuke's pleasure and trusted to make it worthwhile.
he lets sasuke stay on his knees for a moment, but eventually tseng does lean down to rest a hand on sasuke's bicep, carefully encouraging him to stand. slowly, of course, out of consideration for the fact that his knees are likely sore—tseng's kitchen floors certainly weren't laid with kneeling comfort in mind. ]
Would you let me wash your face?
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He comes to stand close to Tseng, between the man's open legs.]
That depends. [A tilt of his head.] Are you washing my face here in the kitchen, or are you going to take me to the shower?
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I was hoping for the shower, but if your preference is the kitchen sink...
[ tseng casts a little glance backwards, behind them to where the sink is set into the marble countertops. it is a nice sink, but not entirely what tseng thinks of when he thinks about aftercare.
when his gaze returns to sasuke, tseng's expression softens a little in its teasing. it's not a conscious change, just... something his face does when he looks at sasuke, evidently.
he also contemplates saying aloud that the last time they showered together they also got rather distracted, but chooses not to, since he's sure that sasuke remembers regardless. ]
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In any case, Sasuke hums low in his throat and leans slightly away, conscious that he's still not fully clean and he doesn't know if Tseng would want him too close for that reason.]
I don't have anywhere to be. Let's take a shower. [His right hand drops, seeking Tseng's wrist — a little bossy in the way he tugs on the man's arm as he steps back, towing him along.] I should take advantage of your bathroom's privacy while I can.
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Gladly. [ and not just as a figure of speech. tseng likes the idea of showering together, the intimacy and sensuality of the experience. ] You know you can use my bathroom whenever you want, don't you?
[ like, what is the point of having a fuckoff big luxe bathroom if you aren't going to let your situationship use it as he desires? tseng lets himself be pulled up by sasuke's hand on his wrist, but the first thing he does when he stands is to take sasuke's face in both hands and kiss him right on the mouth—a brief kiss, yes, but hopefully one that leaves no uncertainty about the fact that tseng doesn't mind sasuke close no matter how messy he is. ]
I'll wash your hair, too.
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[Hello, that's so thoughtless? What if Tseng is busy or has other company over? Still, he's touched by the consideration and the lack of shame shown in that kiss — clearly signifying he doesn't mind the mess. Sasuke returns it, letting himself enjoy the closeness and intimacy of the gesture before they withdraw and begin making their way to the shower.]
Ah, thanks. My hair is getting a little long — though not as long as yours. [Tseng easily wins that comparison.] Sometimes it can be annoying with one hand.
[He rarely complains about his handicap, if ever, but it is a testament now to the general comfort he feels in Tseng's presence, to be open.]
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Maybe yours will get this long, if you don't cut it for five years. [ the last time tseng cut his hair was in october of [ ν ] – εγλ 0002, just after the incident at nibelheim. a signifier of his own dishonor, his own grief, although he hadn't explained it to anyone as such.
this mention of sasuke's missing arm is, tseng thinks, perhaps the first time that sasuke has acknowledged it outright. it's always been clear to tseng that he manages well enough, and sasuke has never struck tseng as the type to want to be treated differently because of it, so it does speak to sasuke's comfort with and trust in tseng that he speaks so openly about it now. what a warm feeling, small and blooming in his chest. ]
I can imagine. [ tseng has only spent short stretches of time without full use of his limbs, and those were frustrating enough. he leans over to press a brief kiss to sasuke's temple. ] Then let that be another point in favor of you making use of my bathroom. When you're tired of doing it yourself, you can come here and let me do it for you.
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The gesture is touching, and he manages a soft little laugh at the words, leading the way into the bathroom now that he knows the path.]
You're the one who must get tired of washing your own hair. [Two hands or not...] But, if you want, you can do it for me now.
[Once he's turned on the lights, pleasantly backlit at the counter mirror, Sasuke begins to shuffle his shirt overhead. He's not shy this time undressing with Tseng, but he is — aware of himself, maybe.]
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[ his own hair, he only washes to get clean! sasuke's hair, he gets to wash for the experience of it, the intimacy and shared space. far more pleasing a venture than just trying to shampoo away the day.
as sasuke begins to undress, tseng leans over to turn on the spray, letting it heat up in the meantime. then he turns and spends a moment just watching, his gaze steady and warm as he observes sasuke's skin revealed, the narrow dip of his waist broadening to his ribs and then to his shoulders. lithe muscle, pale skin decorated by scars that speak to the life sasuke has led.
tseng steps forward to do the last part, tugging sasuke's shirt over his head, and then leans in to kiss his shoulder right atop one of those faded scars. that's all—no comment. there's no need for it. tseng sets sasuke's shirt on the countertop and begins to remove his own clothes next, his shirt first and then his slacks. ]